It was raining. He had been travelling for days, but finally he had found civilisation. The journey from Cyrodiil had been long and hard, but at least now he was safe. His fur hood would have been dryer if he had dived head-first in Lake Rumare. Each drop of rain hit him like an arrow. He was hungry, thirsty, wet and cold. In other words, he was looking for an inn. The big stone walls were quite imposing to him, he was expecting something a little bit more humble for a little village. He approached the gates. “Occupation?” The guard was a lot taller then him. He was kind of scared. He didn’t want to get killed by some barbarian after all he’d been through. “Farmer.” With a grunt, the guard opened the gates. Some might have said it was unethical to lie so bluntly, but, after all, he was a man on the run. As he walked a long the cobblestone road, he heard cheerful music and chatter. He turned around a corner. He saw it. Sleeping giant inn. He went in, and immediately felt better. A warm fire was at the center of the hall. The place was quite crowded. “Wine and bread. And a room for the night.” He sat down on a table and started eating. He was now out of money. As he sipped his mind he noticed someone was starring at him. A nord. The nord had very long beard, and his face was cut in half diagonally by a huge scar. “Fucking barbarians.” he muttered under his breath.

He had finished eating when the door opened. A high-elf, wearing a black robe, had just come in. He instinctively grabbed his knife under the table, but then he changed his mind. “He could be anyone, even someone like me.” He went to his room. The bed actually had a mattress. He was surprised. And exhausted. He threw himself on the bed, and in a few seconds he was sleeping.

Creaking in the night. A door had opened. He stood up immediately, his knife in his hand. On the doorstep was a black robe. In this black robe was a high-elf. In this high-elf was a blade. On this blade was flames and fire. As the high-elf fell to the ground, his killer was revealed. It was the bearded nord from before. “Who… who are you?” “I have many names.” The nord’s voice sound like fire crackling. “Once, a very, very long time ago, I was an imperial, just like you. Back then, I was called Claudius.” The nord closed the door, and everything went quiet.